


Mirage's overcomplicated outfit

by MoonTearChild



Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-17
Updated: 2019-09-17
Packaged: 2020-10-20 15:03:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20677355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoonTearChild/pseuds/MoonTearChild
Summary: After a particularly tough victory, the two legends decide to relax together - but first, mirage has to undress





	Mirage's overcomplicated outfit

**Author's Note:**

> Also known as the Author spend 30 minutes figuring out just how thE FUCK Mirage got out of such a complicated outfit, and decided to write a one shot

Giving a steady yank at the steel capped boots, Mirage sighs. In his rush to take them off, he'd gotten mud all over his hand - which by extension meant-  
"Hey, tough guy, you got mud all over the floor." Octane yelled from the hallway, making the trickster groan in annoyance. He took a moment to simply close his eyes, leaning back against the wall, rubbing at his eyes. It had been a tough match. Footsteps cause him to flinch before he remembers that he's home, he's safe. "Chill amigo, it's just me." Octane has already begun the process of dressing down, skullcap and goggles in his hand, he pulls down his mask with a smirk. "Still not taking care of your mess though."  
Elliott laughs tiredly, beginning the arduous process of taking off his gear, starting with the artillery belts strung across his chest, setting one then belt then the other down on the back of a nearby chair. Next comes the many straps and buckles, unclipping and loosening each one as they progressed up his arm, gradually removing his holotech. He rolls his shoulder in relief at the loss of weight, yawning as he went. Moving to the other arm and repeating the process of unlatching the gear, he forcefully reminds himself at the last moment that dropping the tech down wherever was exactly how it gets damaged, and drapes that over the chair too. He removes the scarf next, dropping that unceremoniously onto the floor next to his boots. 

Octavio smirks, watching with keen eyes as he reclined with his arms behind his head on the bed. He'd already took off his bullet vest and tanks attached to his utility belt, gloves and arm bands laid on the bedside table. This was always an amusing sight.

Next comes the many pouches secured to his lower shins, Elliott groaning out as he has to bend down to reach them, cursing under his breath. While he's nearby, he unbuckles the knee pads, letting them tumble down to the gradually growing pile of items at his feet. He takes a second to stop and breathe, feeling eyes on him, he looks up.   
"Something funny?" He asks, octane laughs in response.  
"Keep going, you're about halfway there, don't give up."   
Elliott let's out an indignant huff, rolling his eyes as he reached up to begin loosening his bullet vest, sliding it up over his head and letting it too fall into the pile.   
"I don't have that much gear." He mumbles, turning his left leg off to the side to access the buckle which loosened another one of the pouches strapped to his thigh, thus being able to reach around to release the similar mechanism below his ass. Sliding it down his leg, he wobbles slightly, unsteady due to his tired legs. Once his left leg was free, he slides the other set of straps down his right leg, holding the gear in front of him with one hand while trying to unclasp his main belt buckle with the other. Octavio kicks his legs over the side of the bed, taking a casual walk over to where his boyfriend was struggling.  
"Elliott, I love you, but c'mon man. It takes you thirty minutes to get ready in the morning, and that's before you start on your hair." His hands make quick work of the buckle, enabling the trickster to finally free his waist. "I mean, what are these straps even for?" He continued, ignoring the faux betrayal in Mirage's eyes.  
"Hey, when you've got hair this good, you gotta take care of it." He dumps the leg kit onto the chair, almost toppling it over as he runs fingers through the curls on his head for dramatic effect. "And I'll have you know my ass looks good in that harness." The gloves come off, tossed off to the side. Octavio raises a brow.   
"Si, but you also spend half of the match complaining it's riding up." He chokes back a laugh. "Is that really the only reason you wear it?" Mirage tuts.  
"Hey, if you don't apre- aprap… Like it-"   
Octavio cuts him off, holding up his hands.  
"Hey, I'm not saying that, let's not be too hasty amor."   
"There's a joke in there somewhere."  
"Shut up. Also, that's not the only thing it makes look good." The junkie winks, making Mirage raise his brows.  
"You know, you're supposed to spend the match looking out for enemies. It's a wonder we won at all today with you admitting to spending your time staring at my di-"   
"Are you gonna get undressed or no?"   
Elliott grasps at the zipper to his yellow jumpsuit, dragging it down with a smirk.   
"Are you suggesting something?" He asks coyly, pulling the padded material over his shoulders and shooting a flirty look in the direction of his lover.   
"Typically? Yes. But I'm pretty burned out today, so sadly no." Octane stretches, yawning as he pulls his arms up over his head. Elliott nods as he pulls the fabric down around his ankles.  
"Thank god, I think I could pass out, and that's not very sexy." He folds the jumpsuit as neatly as possible, settling it down on the seat of the chair along with everything else that was on the floor, pushing his shoes off to the side.   
He lets out a breath, massaging his lower back and grimacing at the many cuts and scrapes marring his skin as Octavio runs a hand across his shoulders. "You may have a point. It does feel pretty good to get all that gear off." He melts into the touch of the junkie's hand, closing his eyes.   
"You missed a bit." Octane laughs, snapping at the elastic band securing his goggles to his forehead before removing them and chucking them onto the pile. "Now that you're done, how about a bath?" 

Elliott nods in response, moving to sit down on the corner of the bed and ruffle his hair, grimacing at the dirt caked through it. Octavio exits the room, making his way to the adjacent door and pushing it open, switching on the lights to the bathroom. He begins by running the hot tap, securing the plug in the bottom of the tub before rummaging around in the cabinets. Elliott had a soft spot for expensive products, stuff that smelled like fruit and left his skin feeling soft and Octavio had to admit, it was pretty cute. His boyfriend always smelled nice, even after a long day of work. Settling on some frothy bubble bath and some bath salts, he empties a generous amount of each into the water before setting them back in place, exchanging them for two large fluffy towels which he set on the side counter. Satisfied with the temperature of the water, he makes his way back to the bedroom, simply standing in the doorway and watching for a moment as Elliott's chest rose and fell evenly, arm slung over his eyes as he was sprawled out on the bed.   
"C'mon sleepyhead, you can rest after you get out." He shakes at the man's shoulder, feeling bad about waking him, but knowing that he would only complain tomorrow if he didn't wash up now. Opening his eyes, Mirage shoots Octane a sleepy smile, rubbing at his eyes with the heel of his hand. Taking a moment to stand, he follows behind the speedster as they make their way to the bathroom, both in various amounts of pain from the days activities. He sits on the side of the bath, peeling off his sweat soaked shirts and shorts, already beginning to feel better as they left his skin. He leans forward to begin unlatching his prosthetics, but is beat to it by Mirage, who drops to his knees in front of him, carefully working at the metal and removing them one by one, setting a chaste kiss to his leg before standing to put them somewhere secure. Once his underwear was removed, Octavio eases himself back into the bath, groaning as the water soothed his muscles. "Mierda, I'm so tense." He mumbles, scooping handfuls of water up over his shoulders. 

Mirage isn't far behind, throwing his boxers into the wash basket and sliding in behind the other man, legs either side of him. He reclines as much as the bath allows, big enough to fit two people but still not enough so that Elliott could stretch out completely, hissing slightly as the hot water gets into his cuts. Octavio leans back against the man's chest, sighing contentedly as strong arms wrap around his waist. "Good thing we have tomorrow off, eh?"   
Mirage simply hums in reply, beginning the process of rubbing his hands up Octavio's back, working his fingers into the muscles which were stiff and aching with practiced precision - the stims always left his muscles locked up. The man let out a sigh of satisfaction, melting into the touches as they came, eyes shutting in bliss. They leave momentarily, only to return with a washcloth covered in a nice smelling body lotion, smoothing over his scarred skin and lathering bubbles as he went. "Such a gentleman." Octavio teases, "Makes me feel like a princess."   
That makes Elliott laugh, the water around him splashing against the rim of the tub as his body jerks with the sound.   
"Well, will you let me wash your hair, your majesty?" He smiles, dropping the cloth into the water and pulling his boyfriend closer.  
"I think I'll allow it."  
Squeezing a dollop of shampoo into the black and green hair, Elliott does his best to spread it around evenly, having the height advantage to do so. Once the speedster's head was covered, Mirage begins massaging the soap in, revealing in the soft groans and sighs of his lover, the shampoo turning green with the dye. He stops for a moment, tapping at the junkie's hip to signal for him to move forward enough to dip his head into the water. Turning up his nose at the dirt coming off into the water, Elliott slicks back his own hair with the shampoo, opting for a quicker wash rather than his usual indulgent soak. Leaning back down to clean away the suds, Octane watches the man with a smile, placing a kiss on his knee as he resurfaced. Now facing each other, Mirage leans in, pressing his lips to Octane's, cupping the side of his face sweetly. "Rápido, water's getting cold." The junkie mumbles against his mouth, making the trickster pout.  
"And here I was trying to be romantic." 

Octavio washes his hair clean of the product while Elliott smoothes conditioner through his curls, yawning. "Jeez, my arms are killing me." He complains, wiping himself down with the washcloth to give the product time to settle in his hair.  
"Tired?"   
"I'm exa- exesp- yeah, pretty tired." His brows furrow as he stumbles for his words, eventually deciding to call it quits with a frustrated sigh. He often found he tripped over his own tongue more when he was tired, but it wasn't embarrassing around Octavio anymore. The speedster thought it was endearing, even if Elliott refused to believe it. Octane shoots Mirage a reassuring smile, setting his arms on either side of the bath to pull himself up enough to sit on the ledge, giving the man more room to sink down into the tub, soaking his hair again. Meanwhile, he reaches out for his prosthetics, attaching them one after another and standing, grabbing at one of the large bath towels to begin drying off. "You know you didn't have to do that. I could have just carried you to bed. I'm getting out now anyways." Mirage watches his boyfriend, standing with a groan and pulling the plug on the now dirty water. He steps out onto the bath mat, securing the other towel around his waist as he ruffled water droplets from his hair.   
"You're not doing your skin routine?" Octavio asks, quirking a brow as he begins walking to the door, towel around his shoulders.   
"I can't be bothered." Replies Mirage, taking a second to stare at his reflection in the mirror. Not bad, only a bruise decorating his cheekbone, and a small cut above his eyebrow.   
"You'll be mad at yourself tomorrow!" Octane's voice is growing steadily quieter as he enters the bedroom, muffled through the wall.  
"Jokes on you, I'm always mad at myself!" Mirage shouts back playfully, sighing and running the tap to clean his face.  
"Hey, I'll kick your ass!" Octavio warns jokingly, making the trickster laugh.   
"Try me tough guy!"   
Applying a face wash to his skin, Mirage begins smoothing it in, careful not to be too rough on his injuries before scooping up a handful of water and splashing it over his face. He pats his skin dry with a hand towel and opens up the tub of moisturizer, scooping a dollop up with his finger and spreading it about his face, humming to himself as he went. All was quiet from the bedroom as he worked, leading him to believe Octane had already fell asleep. Running a hand over his beard, he shakes his head - shaving could wait until tomorrow. 

Mirage steps out into the hallway, turning off the bathroom light and then into the bedroom, tugging loose the towel to run it over his thighs and torso, quickly drying off before setting it on his head to take care of his hair.   
"Ah, there's my handsome man." Octavio greets, grinning up from his place on the bed, sheets already covering his lower half, towel dumped on the floor. Normally, Mirage would complain, but he was simply too tired to care right now and followed suit. "Elliott, c'mon, come here." Octane whines, opening his arms as his lover climbs into bed next to him, leaning his weight on his chest and wrapping his arms around his waist. They lay in silence for a moment, simply basking in the warmth of each other as tiredness swept over their bodies. "Te amo."   
"Love you too, Tav. Night."


End file.
